


Connected

by beautifullights



Series: Save an X-wing, Ride a Pilot [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Badass Finn, Clothed Sex, Crack, Demisexual Poe, Demisexuality, Emotionally Honest Conversations, Enthusiastic Consent, First Time, Fluff, Flustered Poe Dameron, Force-Sensitive Finn, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Grey-A, Grey-Ace Poe, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sleepy Cuddles, Soul-Restoring Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 04:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8783425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullights/pseuds/beautifullights
Summary: “Finn is—is using the Force on me.” Poe’s voice cracks. “Whatever he tells me, I want to do. Without question. Anything for him, whatever he wants. And whenever he’s there, I can’t look away. I want to be around him all the time, whenever I can, and then when I look at him, I feel warm, and—” Poe stops short.Leia’s lip twitches.“Shit,” Poe says wonderingly. “I’m an idiot.”///In which Poe needs therapy, sleep, and a kiss, not necessarily in that order. In which Finn is trying to save the galaxy, figure things out with Poe, and get to his meeting on time, also not necessarily in that order.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was born out of my own frustration with sexual desire, or lack thereof, or confusion thereabouts. Is there a better way to deal with one's problems than to insert them into a fictional character and conjure up a happy ending? If so, I haven't found it.

“General Organa. Do you have a minute?”

Leia holds up a finger, finishes the report she’s reading, marks her place, and looks up at Poe. “What happened? You said the recon went—”

“Recon went fine, yeah, it’s all fine, it’s ok, it’s great, yeah. Um.”

“Commander.” Leia waves a hand at the chair in front of her desk. “Sit. Before you fall over. You’re still on post-op rest for the next 24, I expect you to be resting. What’s going on?”

Poe sits as instructed and clasps his hands in his lap. “General. Um. I think—”

“Poe. Just tell me now or go get some sleep, you look awful.”

“I think Finn is Force-sensitive,” Poe blurts out. “He’s—he’s just—I mean, if you look at everything he did. Shooting down those cannons when he’d never even sat in a TIE-fighter before. Making Phasma lower the shields. Holding his own against—against. Um. There’s no way he could have—”

“Dameron,” Leia interrupts. “That’s none of your concern.”

Poe folds his arms across his chest and glares at her. Leia glares right back, unfazed. “Anything else you wanted to tell me?”

“General.” Poe clenches his fists, then forcibly unclenches them again. “Is he or isn't he? I need to know.”

“That's classified, and also none of your business. Dameron, if you’re only here to gossip—”

“I need to know,” Poe growls.

In the leaf-green lights dangling from the ceiling of her office, Leia’s eyes are darker than Corellian brandy. “Any other questions?”

Poe shrinks beneath her gaze. He needs a shower, a good night’s sleep, and a hug, not necessarily in that order. And the hug is a dubious prospect at best, unless Chewie returns early with Rey. He doubts he looks any more commanding than he feels, but he is a Commander, damn it, and he needs to be able to trust those he lives and fights with. Mustering the last of his energy, he squares his shoulders and faces her across the desk. “General Organa,” Poe says. “He _is.”_  Poe's voice cracks. “I _know_ he is. General, he’s—”

“Dameron,” Leia sighs. “He is Force-sensitive. I know. And he knows. We’ve talked about it.”

“You—” Poe sits back in his chair and tries to breath past the lurch in his gut. “You _knew?”_ he croaks. _I trusted you_ , he thinks, dizzy. _I—_

“Poe,” Leia says gently. “I’m sorry. We decided to keep it as quiet as possible, to deflect unwanted attention. Once Rey returns with Luke—” she can’t help a small smile at the thought— “Finn will train with him. Until then—” She purses her lips. “The Force creates as many problems as it solves. We both thought it best to wait to tell anyone until he can be properly trained.”

Poe stares at her.

“Poe.” Leia looks down at her lap. “I’m sorry. From the bottom of my heart. About what—Kylo—did to you. I’ll always be sorry. But not all Force-sensitives are like that. You know that, right? _I’m_ Force-sensitive, and I—”

“No, I know that, I trust you, it’s not that, I mean, it makes me nervous, of course it makes me nervous, but that’s not the problem.”

Leia waits.

Poe’s leg jiggles against his chair.

Leia sighs. “Dameron. I have a meeting in two minutes. This would be a great time to tell me what the problem is.”

“I—Finn—he. I. He. He’s. He—”

“Poe.” Leia’s standing beside him, one hand on his shoulder, pushing his head down between his knees. “Breathe.”

Poe stares at his boots, which are suddenly a lot closer than they were before. He’s not having a panic attack, he isn’t, not a full one, he knows the difference by now, but it’s hard to hold onto that when breathing is about as difficult as pulling off a double Kashyyyk spin in atmo. “Breathe,” Leia says. Poe breathes. Clenches his fists. Closes his eyes. Breathes again. _In. Two. Three. Four. Out. Two. Three. Four._

“He used it on me,” Poe rasps at last.

“The Force?” Leia’s hand tightens on his shoulder.

Poe nods. He tries to swallow past the ache in his throat.

Leia crouches to his eye level and stares at him, mouth set and hard. “Tell me.”

“He—he just—” Poe’s voice cracks. “He’s doing one of those Force trance things, my dad told me the stories, I know Force-users can do that.” _Sith_ , he doesn’t say, but he might as well. Finn. A Sith.

Poe wraps his arms around his chest. “Whatever he tells me, I want to do. Without question. Anything for him, whatever he wants. And whenever he’s there I can’t look away. I want to be around him all the time, whenever I can, and then when I look at him, I feel warm, and—” Poe stops short.

Leia’s lip twitches.

“Shit,” Poe says wonderingly. “I’m an idiot.”

Leia pats his arm. “A highly entertaining one, I assure you.”

“This doesn’t happen to me,” Poe says dazedly. “Not the idiot thing, that happens all the time, I’m used to that. This—this—” _Feeling,_ but there’s no way he’s going to talk about his history of sexual desire, or lack thereof, with a general who already has far too much on her plate. “Oh, fuck.” Poe covers his eyes with his hands. “Fucking kriffing _hell._ This stays off the record. Please?”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Shit.” Poe scrubs at his hair. “I'm sorry for taking your time with this—this—nothing.”

“Well, you came in here thinking Finn was using the Dark side on you, which is a serious concern. So thank you for bringing it to my attention.” Leia resumes her post behind her desk with only a slight slant to her lips to show for her amusement. “And at any rate,” she adds, “I’ve always enjoyed the sight of people making fools of themselves over love.”

“I’m not in _love,_ we’re just—just dating, I—” Poe stops himself before he spills all of his personal life to his general. “Happy to be of service,” he sighs instead. “Anytime.”

“Is there anything else you needed to tell me?”

“I hope not.” Poe stretches to his feet with a groan. “I’m willing to be an idiot once a day, if necessary, but that’s usually my limit.”

“Well then,” Leia says, lips pressed together against a smile. “Glad that you got that out of your system.”

“For the next ten minutes, at least.” Poe rubs his forehead. His panic is slowly draining away, leaving him exhausted but relieved.

Leia taps her stylus on her datapad to reawaken it. “You're going to talk about this with a psytech, of course.” Her eyes hold him in place.

Poe freezes. “Of course!” he nods, with as much boundless enthusiasm as he can muster. “That’s a great idea! I’d be glad to! Definitely! Sure! Sounds great!”

“Nerfherder,” Leia mutters. “And you’ll talk with Finn, too,” she adds.

“Right. Of course. Um.” Poe scrubs a hand through his hair. “Fuck. Ok. I don’t even know where to start. Ok. Right. Fuck. Ok. Yeah. Mmm-hmm. I can—yeah. I’ll do that.”

“Get out of here, Commander.” Leia flaps a hand at him. “I believe you’re supposed to be _resting,_ not rattling around the base causing mayhem. When you’ve done that, go find your man. And tell him.” She raises a brow with as much crackling threat as the business end of a riot baton.

“Yes, General.” Poe salutes her, serious again. “I will.” He turns to go.

“Poe,” Leia says, just before Poe can leave. He turns back to her, startled. She’s already back to the report, tapping quick notes in her datapad with a fine stylus, coil of braids outlined in the soft green light of her office. “I’m glad,” she says. Her eyes flick up to his. “Bout time something good came out of this war.”

“Yes,” Poe says softly. “It is.” He salutes again and turns on his heel. “Thank you, General.”

 

 

  

* * *

 

 

  

“Poe Dameron, Commander,” the buzzer on Finn’s door intones in stentorian Core Basic.

Finn straightens from his work, startled. “Come in!” he calls. He swivels around from the report he’s working on and smiles at Poe as he steps into the room. “Hey. How are you? What’s going on? I thought you’re supposed to be resting now.”

“Hey.” Poe’s standing with his usual post-op slump, but his weight’s evenly on both legs and he’s not obviously nursing any injury, which is a good sign. Injured or not, though, it was clearly a rough mission. His hair is a matted, long-mission-no-breaks mess, his eyes are shadowed with dark circles, and his uniform has its usual post-op assortment of small bloodstains and engine grease spots. He looks exhausted.

He looks _beautiful._

Finn shakes his head to clear it. “Are you all right?” He reaches out to Poe. “You seemed upset last week. I tried to find you before your mission, but by the time I got to the hangar, you were already in the air. Are you ok?” Finn waves a hand at the bed. “Come on in, sit down—”

“You’re Force-sensitive.” Poe’s hands are stiff at his sides.

Finn’s smile fades. “Um,” he says. “Well. Yeah. I am.” He stands and steps towards Poe. “How did you—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Poe’s voice cracks.

“I’m sorry.” Finn’s heart pounds in his ears. “I’m so sorry, Poe. General Organa was afraid word would get out—to the First Order, to Snoke, to—yeah. Afraid they’d come after me. And then—I guess—” He clasps his hands behind his back to stop them from shaking and forces himself to hold Poe’s gaze. “I could have told you, in private. I _should_ have. But I was afraid—I thought maybe you wouldn't—I didn’t want to—to lose—” Finn’s shoulders jerk up, down. “To lose you.”

The vertical crease between Poe’s brows sharpens. His eyes pin Finn in place.

“Poe.” Finn swallows. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I would never use it on you. I would never hurt you. I _swear_ to you, Poe—”

“I know that,” Poe rasps. He looks down at his feet. “You’re not Ren.” Finn’s not quite sure which of them Poe wants to convince. “You’d never be. You’re Light through and through. It’d take an idiot to doubt that, which is why I did.” He looks up at Finn at last, mouth trembling. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? Poe, you’re fine. Come sit down, ok? When’s the last time you got a real night’s sleep?”

“I have no idea. And I don’t have to sit.” Poe plants his feet beneath his shoulders and stares Finn down.

Finn stares back, utterly lost. “Poe. Are you ok? Why don’t you go talk to a psy—”

“I’m fine.” Poe sits on the bed, looking oddly relieved. “I’m an idiot, but otherwise I’m fine.”

“Ok, that’s the second time you’ve called yourself an idiot in the last two minutes. If you insult my boyfriend again I may have to—”

“Finn,” Poe says. “I like you.”

Finn thunks back down into his desk chair and leans forward, elbows to knees, head cocked as though it’ll help him see Poe better. “I like you too,” he says hesitantly. “Are you sure you’re—”

“No,” Poe says. “I really like you.” He looks down at his hands, twined together so tightly his knuckles have gone white.

“Oh,” Finn says. He stares at Poe. Poe bites his lip. “I like you too,” Finn says belatedly. “I really like you too. Is—is that—” He shakes his head. “What the hell does that have to do with being Force-sensitive?”

Poe’s cheeks flush an adorable shade of crimson. “I—” He stops.

“You’re nervous,” Finn says, awed by the sight. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

Poe whacks Finn’s arm. “You’re making fun of me—”

“I’m not,” Finn says. He catches Poe’s hand and folds it between his. “I’m sorry. I just—you knew that I like you. We’ve talked about it before. I went on a few really nice dates with you, I don’t know if you were there—”

“Nerfherder.” Poe nudges Finn’s boot with his own. “Yeah, ok, I was there, and they were all lovely, but—I mean, there’s—there’s like and then there’s— _like.”_ Poe stops short.

“Poe—” Finn shakes his head. “What are you trying to say?”

“I want to have sex with you,” Poe blurts out, gaze fixed on the edge of Finn’s desk.

“Oh,” Finn says, very soft. He reaches out and traces the blush across Poe’s cheekbone. Poe’s eyes flutter shut. His lashes are long, so long, against the bruised purple circles beneath his eyes.

“I’ve felt like this maybe twice in my life,” Poe rasps. “And never so strongly. I—I don’t know—” He takes a breath. Finn cups Poe’s cheek in his hand. Poe looks at his knees, avoiding Finn’s gaze. “I didn’t—recognize it. When it happened.”

“You thought I was using the Force,” Finn says, with a warm smile. “Oh, Poe.”

“You’re making fun—”

“I’m _not,”_ Finn repeats. “I’m sorry you were scared.”

“I wasn’t—” Poe stops. “Fuck it,” he sighs. “Ok, fine, I was scared, whatever, that’s not the point here, I—”

Finn takes his hands again and waits.

“It’s ok. If you don’t want to have sex with me.” Poe ducks his head. “If you don’t feel that way. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Poe.” Finn cuts him off before he can spiral any further. “I’d like to have sex with you too.”

Poe looks back up at Finn, eyes wide. “You,” he says. “Oh. Um. I.” He blinks. “Um.”

“I mean,” Finn adds, “I have to finish this tactics analysis today, and I have a meeting with Strategy and Intel, and we should keep talking about, you know—what we each really mean by _like_ like, because I agree with Jess, that phrase is ridiculous, but if there’s a good time in the near future, when we’re both on base and not in the medbay and not under attack and feeling more or less ok—” Finn pauses for breath. “I’d like to have sex with you.”

“Oh,” Poe says, eyes wide. “Oh. That’s, um.” He looks down at their joined hands. “That’s good,” he says, dazed. “That’s really good.” His eyes flick up to Finn’s again. “Really?” His voice cracks.

“Really,” Finn laughs. “What, you thought I’d say no? Poe fucking Dameron, best pilot, flying ace, my best friend, what happened to you?”

“I’m not good at this.” Poe’s shoulders rise helplessly. “Flying, sure. But this—I—I’ve only ever wanted to have sex with two people before, in my life. And only acted on it once. I don’t really know how to do this.”

“Well.” Finn shrugs. “I’m not really an expert on it either. And I don’t think the Force can really help me with this. But, um.” He grins at Poe. “I think we’ll figure it out.”

“I think we will, buddy,” Poe says dazedly. “I think we really will.” He smiles like Finn’s handed him an activation cylinder for the newest T-90 prototype. “But. Right.” He shakes his head. “You need to work. I’m sorry I interrupted.”

“It’s ok. I’m glad you came in. It’s good to see you.” Finn’s grinning wide enough that it would hurt his face if he weren't so giddy. _Poe. Poe Dameron. Naked. In my bed. Holy fucking fuck._ “You can always come in here. You know that, right? I always want to talk to you. Whatever you need.”

“Thank you,” Poe says. This close, the sunlight from the window highlights the warm mead of Poe's eyes, the abrupt stub of his nose, the hesitant flash of his smile. He’s beautiful, _beautiful,_ too beautiful for words, always—

Poe’s hands tighten on Finn’s, jolting Finn back to reality. “Can I kiss you?” Poe asks.

Finn blinks at him. “Please,” he says, just like he’s been telling the Poe in his head for months now, while lying in his lonely bed and trying to find a nice thought so he can fall asleep at last. Poe reaches out, runs a finger up his bicep, settles a hand on his shoulder, slow and gentle—then pulls Finn down onto the bed on top of him and tangles his legs around Finn’s waist.

Finn laughs and braces himself atop Poe with one hand on the mattress. “Hey, beautiful,” he says, and runs a hand through Poe’s thick curls.

Poe’s eyes crinkle in delight. He traces the line of Finn’s jaw down to his lips with one work-roughened finger. “Yeah?” he asks, with the sweetest smile Finn’s ever seen.

 _“Yeah,”_ Finn rasps.

Poe cups Finn’s cheek in his hand, pulls him down, and kisses him. His lips vibrate with laughter beneath Finn’s. His cock is hard against Finn’s hip, tenting his worn fatigues.

“Can I?” Finn’s voice catches in his throat. “Do you want to—”

“Yes,” Poe says, breathless. “Please. I want—I want you, I want everything, please—”

“I’ve got you.” Finn strokes Poe’s hair off his forehead. “I’ve got you. Ok?” He tucks his leg between Poe’s, cock already flush and aching, constrained by the tight fly of his command uniform. _Is this—this is—is this really happening? this is—_ Poe’s hands settle over his ass and draw him closer.

_Yes, ok, this is really happening. Oh Force._

Finn rocks cautiously down against Poe’s hips. Poe ducks his head into Finn’s neck and groans. He slips his hands beneath Finn’s shirt, just beneath the puckered slash of his scar. Finn’s breath catches.

“Is this ok?” Poe asks. He blinks up at Finn, hair already spread in a crazed halo around his head.

“This,” Finn says, and kisses Poe thoroughly. “Is wonderful,” he continues, and moves down to kiss Poe’s neck.

“Have you—ever—done this—before?” Poe’s breath comes in abbreviated gasps, punctuated by Finn’s kisses along the smooth slope of his neck.

“Few times. But—” Finn stops, hand splayed across Poe’s shoulder, cheek pressed against the warm slope of Poe’s collarbone, above the loose wrap of his shirt. Poe’s hand rises to stroke the back of Finn’s head, gentle as always. “But it never felt like this,” Finn whispers.

Poe tilts Finn’s his face up until their eyes meet. He runs a finger over Finn’s lips, eyes wide, mouth unsteady. “Well,” he says, and kisses Finn. “Me neither.” His hips rise to meet Finn’s, matching him thrust for slow thrust. He runs a hand down the length of Finn’s back and splays his fingers over Finn’s ass. Finn kisses Poe’s jaw, neck, throat. When he reaches Poe’s pulse point, Poe bucks beneath him with a quiet groan. He grinds up against Finn, harder, faster, desperate—

“Shhh,” Finn says, and grabs Poe’s hip. “We’ve got time. I—” Poe shifts beneath him, pressing his cock against Finn’s at just the right angle, despite the layers of clothes. Finn’s breath shudders out. “I,” he says. “I want to do this right, with you.”

“You are,” Poe murmurs. He looks up at Finn, eyes dark and trusting. “I just want to be with you.”

“Oh,” Finn says. He’s warm from head to toe, from the broad slope of Poe’s chest beneath his to the tangle of their legs on the rucked-up sheets.

“And I don’t know about you, buddy,” Poe adds, “but _I’m_ having fun.” His mouth quirks up into a wicked grin. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” Finn says, breathless. “I.” Poe shifts again, sliding his cock deliciously across Finn’s. His thumb rubs slow circles into the hard curve of Finn’s ass. Finn’s heart pounds in his ears. Poe rocks up again, again, again. Finn’s hands tighten on his shoulders. He reaches a hand down between them, finds the outline of Poe’s cock beneath his pants, and strokes down the length of it, again, again, sure and strong.

Poe’s breath hisses out through his teeth. “Kriffing hell,” he says. “Finn— _Finn._ Fuck—” He bucks up beneath Finn, head thrown back, hands tightening on Finn’s ass as he comes. Finn loses his breath entirely at the sight. A shiver of heat in the Force strikes him right in the gut, or maybe his cock, or maybe Poe’s, who knows, they’re all one—

Poe grips Finn’s cock through his uniform, strong and tight and perfect. Finn blinks back to reality. Poe smirks up at him. “Hey, buddy,” he says. “How’s this?”

“That’s,” Finn says, and presses his forehead against Poe’s chest. “That—” Poe twists over the head, just hard enough to make Finn’s toes curl. _“Poe,”_ he groans, awash in heat.

“That’s me, buddy,” Poe murmurs. He laughs softly and twists up again—and everything connects like a circuit, like a rush of flame, like the Force, like a miracle. Poe’s arms come up to hold Finn close as he comes, heart pounding in his ears, breath stuttering. When the pulse finally fades, Finn lays his head on Poe’s chest and just breathes. Poe’s hand strokes up and down the length of his back. There’s a rapidly cooling damp patch between them. Poe’s heartbeat is slow and steady beneath his ear.

With superhuman effort, Finn pushes himself up onto his elbows and looks down at Poe. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey, yourself.” Poe smiles up at him, sleepy-eyed and sweaty.

 _I’ve never felt that before,_ Finn would tell Poe, but he doesn’t even know how to start. _That—feeling. Connection._

Poe’s smile starts to fade. “Are you ok? Was that—”

“What?” Finn blinks at him. _Words. What are words._ “I,” he says, and drops his head back onto Poe’s chest. “Am _wonderful,”_ he yawns. “You. Are wonderful.”

“Yeah?” Poe’s smile returns in full, too pleased to hide it. “That’s nice.”

“I felt it,” Finn says, and lifts his head to meet Poe’s eyes. “In the Force.”

“Oh,” Poe says, eyes intent on Finn’s, mouth pulled in at the edges. “What does that feel like?”

“Like—like I was in the right place.” Finn struggles for the right words. “At the right time. Doing what I was supposed to be doing. Being—who I’m supposed to be.” He frowns. “Not like someone else is ordering me to. Like—like that’s who I am, what I am, what I want, what I need. Like everything is aligned. Lit up.” He hesitates. “Connected.”

“Oh,” Poe says again, softer. He pulls in a deep breath. “That sounds lovely.”

“It was,” Finn says. “It really was.” He runs a hand through Poe’s hair, curling up soft and sweat-slicked between his fingers. “And you. Are you—was that—”

“I want to say it was worth the wait,” Poe says, with a flickering grin, “because it was, kriffing hell it was incredible, but if I had just realized what was going on earlier we could have been having kriffing amazing sex for _months_ instead of me being afraid you were Force-manipulating me, so—”

“Well.” Finn shrugs. “We’ll just have to make up for lost time, then.”

“Damn right,” Poe nods. “More of that. Lots more. So much more. I might never let go of you.” He thinks for a moment, then nudges Finn's elbow. “But next time, less clothes.” He smirks. "I want to see you.”

“I’d like to see you too,” Finn laughs. He smiles down at Poe and kisses his forehead. “But right now, I’d like to see you getting the rest you need.”

“Oh, Force,” Poe groans. “Yeah. Ok. That does sound good.” He stretches with a groan. Finn sits up across Poe’s thighs to give him room to sit up. Poe braces himself up on his elbows and squints up at Finn. “You and the General, damn. Do I really look that bad? Come on, let me up, I’ll go back to my bunk and shower.”

Finn looks Poe up and down, head cocked to the side. “Yeah,” he says. “You do look that bad. Rough mission?”

Poe whacks his arm. “Nerfherder.” He loses the fight against another yawn. “Yeah? No worse than usual, I guess. I just—I was worried about you. That you were using the Force on me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Or you. Which makes a little more sense in hindsight.”

“Is it—does it bother you? That I have the Force.” Finn can’t meet Poe’s eyes.

Poe’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah,” he says at last. Finn’s stomach sinks. “I mean—yeah, for my own self, as long as I’m being honest here. It does make me nervous. I wish you didn’t have it. As much as I trust you, it’s still—” His shoulders twitch up in a half-shrug. “Yeah. But for you, and for the Resistance, and for the galaxy—” Poe's eyes are steady on Finn’s. “I’m so glad,” he says. “So fucking glad. You’re going to use it well. I know you will. You’re a good person, Finn. The best I’ve ever met. You’re going to light up the galaxy.” He reaches up and cups Finn’s cheek. Finn leans into the touch, utterly speechless. “Does it bother  _you?_  Having the Force, I mean.”

It takes Finn a few moments to regain his words. “Yeah,” he says at last. “I am. I mean, I—I’m also terrified. Of ending up like—” He shrugs. “But I want to learn how to use the Force. To fight with Rey, or lead with Leia, or both. To tear down the First Order. To bring peace. I—” He spreads a hand across the warm slope of Poe’s chest. “I hope I can do it right. Be what I need to be.”

“You are,” Poe says softly. “You’ve always been.” His fingers wrap around Finn’s wrist.

Finn looks down at him.

“I mean it,” Poe presses, eyes intent on Finn’s. “I’ll keep saying that as often as I need to.”

“Thank you,” Finn murmurs.

“You’re welcome. Anytime.” Poe clenches his jaw against a yawn.

Finn pokes his cheek. “Go to sleep, you nerfherder.” He hesitates. “You can sleep here, if you want. I should be done with the tactics analysis in an hour or so, and then I’ll come join you. We can shower together later, maybe?” He smirks. “I’m worried you’ll fall over if you try to shower now before you sleep.”

“Ok.” Poe yawns wide enough to crack his face open. “That sounds nice.” He blinks up at Finn. “That sounds really nice.”

“Yeah?” Finn ruffles Poe’s hair. Poe’s eyes flutter shut. “I’m glad.”

“Mmm.” The deep crease in Poe’s brow smoothes as he settles into Finn’s bed. “Wait!” His eyes fly open. “You have a meeting soon. Don’t you?”

“Meeting? MEETING I HAVE A MEETING SHIT!” Finn leaps out of bed, overbalances, and just barely catches himself on the edge of his desk before he falls over. He checks his chrono and groans. “No no no oh no I have to go—”

“It’s ok.” Poe sits up and grabs Finn’s arm.  “You’re ok.”

“I know that. I know. But I have to go, oh fuck, I’m sorry—”

“You’re _ok,”_ Poe insists. He wraps a hand around Finn’s arm and pulls him into a kiss, sure and sweet.

Kissing is, as always, _wonderful._ Finn grabs onto Poe’s shoulders to balance himself and loses himself for a moment in Poe’s kiss. They’ll need to keep talking to each other, and Poe should really keep talking to a psytech, and so should Finn. Maybe if Finn gets up the courage to talk to a psytech someday, he’ll be able to sleep through the night. That would be amazing, wouldn’t it?

Also amazing? Being able to kiss Poe, and wrap him in his arms, and not shut off his newfound awareness of the Force as it tumbles around him and winds their bodies together and _connects_ them, all the way down to the root.

“Go,” Poe says, breathless, pushing at Finn’s chest. “To your meeting. Go, and come back. Ok?”

“Ok,” Finn manages. “I will.” He reluctantly lets go of Poe, yanks a fresh pair of pants and boxers from his drawers, strips off the still-damp set, pulls the clean ones on, and checks his shirt for stray stains.

“All clear, man. You’re good.” Poe smirks at Finn from across the room, eyes half-lidded with desire. “You’re more than good. Have I ever mentioned how much I want to see you without clothes? Because I do, I really do.”

“Well,” Finn laughs. “Glad to be of service.” He raises a brow at Poe. “Your turn next, sir, once you’ve sufficiently recovered.”

“Excellent.” Poe’s smirk cracks open into a full grin. “I can’t wait.”

“Nerfherder,” Finn mutters, but he can’t suppress his smile. He shoves his feet into his boots, grabs the datapad from his desk, and checks his chrono again. “Oh, fuck it,” he groans. “I’m going to be so late. General Organa will kill me.”

“You’re meeting with the _General?”_ To Finn’s surprise, Poe throws back his head and laughs for a long time, bright and delighted. “Don’t worry about being late, buddy,” he gasps, when he gets his breath back at last. “Leia will understand.”

Finn cuts his eyes at him. “Really,” he says. “How do you know?”

“Trust me,” Poe says. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> A plotbunny jumped into my lap one morning and demanded that I cuddle with it, so I did.  
> It’s done, I said. I’m just going to do one editing pass and post it.  
> And then they wanted to have sex. (as TuppingLiberty says: “Finn and Poe always want to fuck. It’s a problem. Or not, depending.)  
> And then it was more than 4k.  
> Welp. This is my life. At least it didn’t turn into a 100k epic!  
> (Yet.)  
> (DON’T TEMPT ME)  
> (ok maybe fine what the hell who knows what may happen)
> 
> Comments fill my soul! Come say hi on [tumblr!](http://beautifullights1.tumblr.com) Or reblog the [fic post](http://beautifullights1.tumblr.com/post/154177343822/connected-beautifullights-star-wars-episode) for a signal boost.


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